


Wild Roses in Moonlight

by HawkSong



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Catharsis, F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26099827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkSong/pseuds/HawkSong
Summary: Lyse is very tired of crying.Meffrid is more than willing to help distract her mind.
Relationships: Lyse Hext/Meffrid Noward
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: August Novel Pairing Challenge 2020





	Wild Roses in Moonlight

She lay looking up at the stars for a long time before she heard Berylla start to snore softly. Then, she quietly rolled to her feet, and walked off a little ways, to find a place where she could sit and look at the water, and think.

Her bare feet whispered over the stones – still warm from the sun even now – and the night air felt nice against her mostly bare legs. She climbed up to the stone ledge that some of the villagers used for fishing – the buckets and folded chairs at the bottom of the rocky outcropping said that much. But the ledge itself was empty, and with rock between it and the village, you could almost believe you were in the middle of nowhere.

She sat down, knees bent, and sighed. The water reflected the stars, but the light was broken into pieces, as the water always moved and changed. Kind of like her life.

So much had happened, so fast – and yet still she felt like nothing was happening fast enough, or maybe that it was all just happening in the wrong way. It was confusing and uncomfortable, and it made her miss Papalymo that much more. He would have teased her in that dry way he had. He would have poked holes in her fears. He would have helped her find her own way to understanding, whatever it was she was struggling with. He had always been like that. Teaching her, not just ordering her around. Tolerating her even when she was at her silliest or most obtuse.

The people of the village were afraid; they didn't want to fight the Empire. She could understand that, she really could – they were so beaten down, so desperate to cling to what little they had left. She had seen exactly this kind of thing, many times over the years – in other refugees from Ala Mhigo, in the faces of the people clinging to the skirts of Uldah. It wasn't new, it was just...hard to swallow that her own people could have fallen so far.

But maybe...maybe she hadn't known these people, the people of Ala Gannha, like she thought she had. She only had fuzzy memories of the village, and stories – stories from Yda, the stories her sister had told her over and over for so long. And then...then Yda had gone. Only the stories had remained, what she could remember of them on her own. Papalymo didn't tell stories. He knew things about Gyr Abania, yes, but he didn't have _stories_.

Even though they had convinced Wiscar and his friends, she still felt...unsettled. Bitter, maybe. She wasn't used to feeling bitter. Just something else that was broken and wrong in her world. Nothing had been the same since the Wall.

Nothing.

She bent her head to her knees and tried not to cry.

She was so _bloody damned tired_ of crying.

“Lyse?”

She sat up with a small gasp and turned her face away. “Meffrid. I thought you were asleep.”

“You all right?”

“I'm f-fine.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she glanced cautiously his way, hoping that he couldn't see the tears on her cheeks. The moon wasn't yet over the horizon, so maybe...

“Mind if I join you?”

She swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, it's uh, it's fine.” She scooted over on the rock a bit to make room.

Meffrid sat down, and his shoulder brushed against hers. She realized in that moment that he didn't have on his coat, nor the top part of his uniform and armor – not even the undershirt. The touch of his skin to hers, brief as it was, seemed to make a spark under her skin. She could smell him, suddenly – a pleasant smell, like sun on the grass, a smell that made her think of lazy days counting clouds. She looked away from him as he settled himself, confused by her reaction. Confused, she told the flutter in her belly. Not excited, not nervous.

“You're in the habit of hiding, aren't you?”

She went a little stiff in the shoulders, surprised by his words. “What? I'm not...”

“Hiding your feelings, I meant.”

“I – um – I...” She floundered, and took a deep breath. “I guess I'm still getting used to not wearing a mask.”

“Even without a mask over your face, you still wear one over your heart,” he said. He didn't sound angry, though. “I can't tell what you're really thinking, most of the time, Lyse. That's not a bad thing – on the battlefield. It's a little hard to make friends with someone who locks everything away from you, though.”

“I – I thought we _were_ friends, though.”

The rising moonlight reflected off his teeth as he grinned a little. He wasn't looking directly at her. “I'd like to be a bit more than friends. If you're willing, that is.”

“...what?” She couldn't believe her ears.

“Okay, I will be crude and plain and up front about it then.” And now he did turn his head and did look at her, and her breath caught at his next words. “Lyse, I find you incredibly attractive, and I would like it very much if you'd let me kiss you.”

“Oh!” She whispered the word, eyes wide, staring at him in disbelief. He simply looked at her, patient, waiting. After a moment, she nodded. “O-okay. You can, um...yes.”

He leaned over, lifting his hand to place his fingers under her chin. His eyes were dark, and that warm scent seemed to wrap around her as he closed the space between them and set his mouth on hers.

Lyse was no stranger to being kissed. She'd been slobbered on by more than one drunk, she'd been embraced by them too, though not for long. She thought she knew what it was like, kissing a man. They took what they wanted from the kiss and then went away. The times she had kissed women had been far more satisfying experiences, few as those had been.

Meffrid didn't kiss like _anyone_ she had ever encountered before.

His mouth was firm, his lips dry and warm. He stroked the very tip of his tongue against her lips, and when she opened her mouth for him, he did not just shove his tongue in – no, he _tasted_ of her, and she tasted _him_. It was an unusual taste – a little like ale, yet with a strange musky sweetness that made her want to keep kissing him for a long time.

The lightning that had lingered beneath her skin now flickered through her, a silent storm of tingling excitement that made all the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand up. She knew _this_ feeling, and it confused her not at all.

He let go of her mouth, and pulled back an inch or two. His thumb stroked her cheek, and she felt him shaking. His eyes searched her face. She didn't know what he was looking for, but she knew what she wanted. It was as clear as the moonlight now falling over the water and making it shimmer, as slow as the turn of the stars, as inevitable as dawn.

“Touch me,” she murmured to him, never taking her eyes from his as she slid her hands onto his shoulders. “Make me feel something that isn't sadness, even if it's just for a little while.”

His breath hitched once, and she saw him swallow hard. “Are you certain?”

“Very.” She set her mouth over his, and leaned into him, curling her arms around his neck.

He didn't hesitate further. His arms went around her, and he held her close.

The ledge of rock they were sitting on wasn't very large – but it was big enough to lie down on. Meffrid guided her back, not moving fast, kissing her and caressing her even as he stretched the two of them out flat, with himself on his side, one leg thrown over hers.

She sighed a little as he slid his hands up under her vest. His hands were callused, and his gentle touches left little trails of desire wherever he touched her. She toyed with one of the beads in his hair for a moment, then stroked her thumb across his cheek before lifting her head to his for another kiss.

He unfastened the front of her vest, and she let it fall away, slipping it off her shoulders. When he lowered his head and set his mouth against her throat, she tilted her head back and murmured encouragement.

Her hands wandered, exploring his broad shoulders and his back. She felt the scars of old wounds and older beatings under her fingertips, a strange and cryptic map of this man's past. She had her fair share of scars, and she knew how to read bits and pieces of that sort of map. Here was a long, straight scar, wide as her thumb and going nearly the length of his back from shoulder-blade to the bottom of his ribs: a stripe from being flogged. Here, a ragged, curving one, where a sword had slashed at him and bitten into the shoulder. He had fought, just like she had. He had taken blows for his men and for his beliefs. Something about that made her desire burn even hotter.

She arched into him for a moment as he nuzzled against her breast through the tight shirt she wore. The thing was practically nothing but a bra band, and with one hand she shoved it up and off her breasts, exposing her nipples to the night, and to the mouth now seeking them.

“Ah! Ahhhhh, good, that's...ah gods...” Her hand pressed against the back of his head, even as her other hand tensed against his shoulder. Meffrid made a pleased sound, nearly like a purr, and she gasped again as his voice buzzed through her.

He slipped one hand down her side, a touch firm enough not to tickle, and cupped her rear end for a moment, pressing her close. She could feel the shape beneath the heavy canvas of his pants, and it made her shiver inside, mingled anticipation and uncertainty. But the shiver passed as his hand moved, coming round her hip and settling between her legs. She ground herself against his hand for a moment, moaning.

Then she wriggled a little, yanking at her shorts, impatient to feel those thick, callused fingers touching her in her most sensitive places. He grunted, a little surprised at her eagerness, but he helped her take off the tight pants and the smalls beneath them without a word.

She opened her legs to him, yearning her body against his as she hooked her foot around the back of his knee. He kissed her again as he slipped his hand back down to her sex.

She cried out, muffled by his mouth, as he skimmed his fingers across her. She was already open and wanting and wet, and the feel of those rough fingers was exquisite torture for a moment, torture that resolved into pure pleasure when he dipped his fingertips into her and then rubbed them gently across her clit. Her arms curled round his neck as she pressed herself closer, hips rolling. She tore her mouth away from his to bury her face against his neck.

“I – I need...Meffrid, I need _more_ ,” she pleaded, kissing the flesh where his neck met his shoulder. He huffed, a kind of silent laugh, and obliged her.

She went stiff as he slid two fingers inside of her sex, nails biting into the dusky skin of his shoulders. Her mouth was open against his skin as she groaned and rocked her hips against him. But when he stroked her clit with his thumb, she fell back onto the stone, head thrown back as she gave herself up to the ecstasy he was stoking in her.

“Damn it, Lyse,” he muttered, and kissed her throat. “So beautiful...” He trailed his mouth down her chest, and claimed her nipple with his mouth again. She arched into him, her moans going high and fluttery as birds.

It had been a long, long time since she had been with anyone, and she could only see to her own needs up to a point. So she wasn't surprised, as Meffrid was, when she began to come on his hand after only a minute or two.

“ _Ah!_ Meffrid!”

He went still as she rode out her orgasm on his fingers, and when she opened her eyes, she saw him staring down at her, an amazed and tender smile on his lips. She smiled back, and tugged him down to kiss him some more.

He took one of her hands in his, and guided it down to his pants. With a swift motion he unfastened the top of the pants, and Lyse slipped her hand inside, understanding that he needed her to touch him as much as she needed to be touched.

She palmed his hot cock through his smalls, a little awkwardly. It wasn't like touching a woman, of course – but she had never actually handled a man's cock before...she wasn't sure quite what to do.

Meffrid noticed her hesitancy, and let go of her mouth. He pressed his forehead to hers gently, and murmured, “Are you shy, Lyse?”

“No,” she answered. She felt color rising in her cheeks as she admitted, “But I've never...never done this much before. Not with a man, anyway.”

His eyes popped open and he pulled back from her a little. “What?”

“I've had _sex_ before,” she hastened to add, tugging at him, not wanting him to go. “I know what I'm doing, just...”

He gazed at her, his face so serious that she really began to worry that he might get up and leave her here.

“Meffrid,” she tried to smile, “don't look at me like that...I want this. I want you.”

“I don't want to hurt you.” His words were tense and his muscles under her hands were like rock.

She swallowed. “I believe you. But if it hurts, it's only for a little while, right? That's what all the women I've talked to say. I'm not scared.” She wriggled against him, trying to tempt him.

He groaned as she rubbed her breasts against him. “Gods damn it, Lyse...you don't know what you're doing to me.”

“Don't hold back, Meffrid,” she whispered. “Show me _everything_.”

He took her mouth with his, and with one hand he pulled his pants down, letting his erection spring free of confinement.

Then he pushed back, until he was kneeling. He tugged at her hands to make her sit up.

“What are you – ” she began, but he took her hand in his and guided it back to his cock.

“Touch it,” he whispered to her. His eyes were half shut and his hands were shaking. “Explore it.”

“Oh.” She looked down. The moon didn't give a lot of light, but it was enough – enough for her to swallow a little as she set her hand on his cock. She had never actually seen one – oh, she knew more or less what a cock looked like and all, she wasn't a _complete_ innocent. But this was...this was...

“It's so smooth,” she murmured, curling her fingers around it. She could just barely make her thumb meet her fingertips, and at first she was rather afraid to really try to close her hand on it, but Meffrid's hand covered hers, and gently pressed, showing her how tightly she could grip him, showing her how to stroke without hurting him.

The head of his cock was even smoother than the shaft, and there was something incredibly sexy about the way he dragged in a breath every time she caressed it.

She leaned in, closer and closer to him. His free hand stroked her back as she brought her mouth to the head of his cock. Experimentally, she licked the silken skin. He shuddered, and she eased back, looking up at him. But he smiled down at her, and stroked her face. “You're doing fine.” His voice was hoarse.

She looked back at the cock in her hand, and noticed that a fat drop of pearly fluid had appeared. She put her tongue out and licked. The taste was salty and musky, and she immediately wanted to taste more. She put her mouth around the entire head of his cock, her tongue exploring the tiny little slit, teasing more of that strangely delicious fluid out of him. He groaned, and the sound made her skin prickle.

She stroked the shaft of his cock, and felt him trembling violently. She wondered, if she kept going, what would happen.

“Lyse – Lyse, stop for now, please...” Meffrid's voice was ragged.

She leaned up, and placed a kiss on his belly. “Why?”

“Because if you...don't stop...I'm going to come in your mouth.”

She smiled a little. “That doesn't sound like a bad thing, Meffrid.”

“It is if you want me to show you,” he managed a breathless laugh, “ _everything_.”

She chuckled, and let him go, fascinated by how his cock stood up, bobbing even when nothing was touching it. She grinned a bit; it was kind of cute, actually. But she didn't think Meffrid would appreciate her saying so.

He drew her up, and she moved closer to him until they were pressed chest to chest, his cock trapped between their bellies. His kiss was hungry now, his hands squeezing her ass cheeks, and she rubbed her breasts against him, enjoying the way the hairs on his chest scraped against her nipples.

He lifted his head to look down at her. “Lie down again,” he told her. She obeyed him, and he knelt over her, rubbing his face across her breasts briefly before balancing his weight on his hands. She opened her legs, instinctively, and he lowered himself to kiss her. His cock rubbed against her sex, and she moaned into his mouth. It felt good – but not good _enough_ , and she rolled her hips a little, uncertain quite how to get more of what she wanted.

He shifted so his weight was on one hand, and gently gripped her knee. “Like this,” he murmured, guiding her leg until her foot was resting on his hip. Lyse half closed her eyes, adjusting, moving her other leg to match, and even as she did, Meffrid was reaching down between the two of them to...to...

She sucked in a breath as she felt the head of his cock rubbing against her sex in earnest. It felt much, _much_ bigger now than it had in her hand, in her mouth. Her eyes flew to meet Meffrid's and he gave her a tense smile. “It's all right,” he reassured her. “I'll go slowly, Lyse. Just hold on to me...”

She swallowed hard and nodded. Her hands skimmed across his shoulders, and she noticed at last that she was shaking as hard as he was. He pressed further, and her eyes closed as she tried to brace herself.

“No,” Meffrid whispered. “Look at me, Lyse. Don't close your eyes.”

She managed to obey him, her breath ragged now, her hands clenching on him. It felt good – but she had never felt such fullness, such pressure –

Her mouth opened as she panted, her body clamoring for all of him even while her mind and her heart quailed at the intense new sensations he was causing. “M-Meffrid...I – I – _oh gods_ – ”

Meffrid's jaw was clenched tight as he slid the head of his cock inside of her. “Dammit, you're going to be the death of me,” he gritted. “So...so gods damned _tight_...”

Lyse gulped, understanding at last why so many women had talked about first times the way they had. She could feel how her body stretched and strained to accept the massive thing entering her. Another man might have simply thrust himself inside, and she would have torn and bled; it would have hurt a _lot_. But Meffrid moved so slowly – how could he keep moving so _slowly?_ She whimpered, wanting him to wait, to let her get used to what she was feeling – and yet wanting him to slide all the way inside of her, to give her everything he had.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, whimpering again as the movement of her legs made her sex shift and flex around his cock. It felt so _hard_ inside of her! Longer and thicker than any fingers could ever be, filling her up in a way she couldn't understand but _oh_ , did she want more of it...

Meffrid groaned, and his hips met hers. Lyse made a tiny little cry in her throat. He was all the way inside of her, really and truly.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, his voice gravelly, shaking with strain.

“I – I – it's _incredible_ ,” she gasped. Her eyelids fluttered as she rocked her hips – even the tiniest motion was enough to make her whole body sing with pleasure. “Meffrid, it's so good – I – want more... _please_...?”

He dropped his head, burying his face against her neck for a moment, and groaned. She felt the shudder run through his whole body, and gasped again at the way his cock flexed inside of her. He muttered something she couldn't understand into her hair, and then he lifted his head, and he began to move.

At first she tightened her legs; the feeling of him pulling out of her made her think he had somehow changed his mind. But then he stroked back _in_ , and her eyes shut as she panted, open mouthed. The pleasure was nothing like she had ever known before. He adjusted himself, somehow knowing just the right angle to glide the head of his cock across that most sensitive place inside of her. Every time he stroked inwards she wanted to moan, but when he pulled back out – _gods!_ The way his cock rubbed then was almost too much to take. Even the thick, long fingers of a Roe couldn't do what his cock was doing to her.

Sweat stood out on her skin, and the night breeze wafted across her, giving her goosebumps. Meffrid kissed her, and his chest hairs rubbed across her nipples, making her bite her lips as she moaned, trying not to be too loud. “More,” she begged him, her voice faint and breathless. “More, Meffrid, please gods, _more_...!”

He leaned his head down, caressing her breast with one hand and then capturing her nipple in his mouth. She pressed his head to her, fingers tangling in his braids, and choked back a yelp of surprised pleasure. Her sex rippled around his thrusting cock and it felt as if a wire of pleasure was winding tighter and tighter inside of her.

“I – ah – oh gods, _oh gods_ , Meffrid, I'm – I'm going to – come,” she gasped.

He lifted his head, and she gripped his shoulders tight, nails biting into his skin, even as he murmured to her. “Yes, Lyse, come for me, sweetheart, _let me feel you_ – ”

She arched, bucking under him, and he slanted his mouth over hers, muffling her cries as she came and _came_ and _**came**_ , harder than she ever had in her life. His cock was the center of her universe in that moment, and it felt as if her body would never, ever stop flexing around him. Her legs clamped down on him, and she would have hit her head on the stone if he hadn't put his hand behind it, holding her to him as he kissed her mercilessly.

The pleasure was like a haze of smoke over everything now. She could feel his thrusts coming faster, deeper, and as she pleaded with him he began to pound into her. Every time he buried himself fully inside of her she gave a little cry, and she rocked against him, hips rolling in a rhythm so instinctive that she couldn't have stopped if she wanted to.

And she didn't _want_ to stop, ever – she chased the pleasure, dazed and breathless and knowing only that she needed to come again – _again_ – _**again!**_

Meffrid shifted his weight once more, and his hand slipped down between them, until his fingers caressed the top of her sex.

Her eyes flew open when he began to rub her clit, and she clutched at him. Words were gone from her; she was made of nothing but little shrieks and gasps and the incandescent ecstasy. She felt it beginning, an earthquake but in her very flesh, her very bones – as if lightning had replaced every drop of her blood.

She wailed his name, lost in climax, no longer caring if even the bloody damn Imperials in their tower heard her.

Meffrid groaned a curse and slipped his hands under her shoulders, driving himself into her. Only a few thrusts more and he too was coming, crying out, curling into her, his face buried against her neck. “Gods – Lyse – _Lyse_ – _**Lyse!!**_ ”

When she finally came back to reality, he was cradling her against his chest. She could hear his heart still beating fast as her head rested there. She shifted, slightly, and caressed him.

He kissed her hair, his arm tightening around her shoulders for a moment. “How do you feel, now?” he asked softly.

She blew out her breath, and chuckled. Her voice shook. “Amazing.”

“Are you hurting?”

“Not at all. That was...that was...” She chuckled again, nervous. “That was _nothing_ like any of the stories I've ever heard.”

She felt him smile. “A compliment, I hope.”

She tilted her head up. “A compliment.”

He kissed her, very gently.

She hummed, pleased; but then she shivered. The breeze had gotten colder, as it usually did this late into the night.

He smiled and helped her back into her clothes, without speaking.

But as she was fastening her vest once more, he reached out and stroked her cheek.

She looked up, and her fingers stilled on the last button of the vest. “What is it?”

He swallowed, and his voice sounded unsure. “You did...like it?”

“How can you even ask that?” she laughed very quietly. “Yes, I liked it very much.”

“Would you...be willing to consider...” He stopped, and cleared his throat. She watched him, fascinated by the way he seemed to steel himself for his next words. “Would you like to do it again?”

She considered teasing him, but let go of the moment of impish humor. He was serious.

“I would _very much_ like to do that again,” she nodded, and then she smiled at him and wound her arms around his neck one more time. “As often as we can get away with doing it, if you're okay with that.”

The look on his face made her want to laugh from sheer joy. She settled for kissing him soundly.

“For now,” she told him when she let him go, “we should probably sleep.”

“You're right.” He stood, and offered her his hand. She didn't need help to stand up, but she took his hand anyway, and didn't let go once she was on her feet.

He gave her a sweet smile that tugged at her heart a little, and kept her hand in his as they walked back to their little fire.

The world was no different now than it had been a couple of hours ago.

Her life was still broken, her homeland was still bleeding beneath the yoke of Imperial rule, and she still didn't really know what tomorrow would bring.

But she felt warm inside again, she felt strong enough to endure whatever their enemies might throw at them. They would find a way to free Ala Mhigo, she just knew it.

The world was no different, and yet, when Meffrid kissed her cheek before he let her go, she knew that everything had changed.


End file.
